The Importance of Being Dean Winchester
by Callisto-HK
Summary: By now, they both thought there's nothing they haven't faced yet; that there's nothing worse than what they've already dealt with. Let's just say there are a few things they haven't considered dangerous and there are a few things they didn't know anything about. And then there was the fact that he was Dean Winchester! -Hurt/Dean; Caring/Sam! /Set in season 10. Rated T for language/
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I kinda feel this story is a bit different than my other stories; it might seem the same at first, but trust me, in the later chapters it's gonna be a bit different.  
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**It happens during season 10, not because of its storyline, just because of the interaction that we've so far seen between Dean and Sam. **This could be just an excuse to hurt Dean and have some brotherly love!****

**So, I think there's no need to give any spoiler alert.**

**Warning for language!**

****And I just hope you like this story and let me know what you think.****

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><p><strong>.<strong>

**. The Importance of Being Dean Winchester .**

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"Holy Shit." Sam exclaimed as the right side of his head collided with the side window, causing him to startle awake when, all of a sudden, Dean turned the steering wheel sharply and pulled over at the side of the road. "What the hell, man?" He groaned as he squeezed his right shoulder with his left hand and rubbed the side of his head with his right fingers.

When he didn't get an answer, not even a smratass remark, let alone an apology or an excuse, he looked to his left and found Dean clutching the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white and he was staring at something ahead with wide, _and terrified?!_, eyes.

That was enough to alarm Sam that something was wrong and instinctively he grabbed his knife and bent slightly forward to look outside the windshield; he looked around with careful eyes, checking everything, but nothing caught his attention; nothing seemed out of order; so he turned his gaze back to Dean and studied his still shell-shocked brother.

"Dean?" he called tentatively. "Whu-" He put a hand on the older man's shoulder which caused him to jump in his seat and turn wild eyes to his brother. But those green eyes didn't stop on Sam, they were darting around rapidly, not fixing on anything in particular and really; Sam was getting scared.

"Dean, for crying out loud, talk to me."

"Sam?"

Wow, Dean sounded unsure and... And scared? Just what the hell?

Sam was about to say '_Duh_', but changed his mind when he saw his brother had yet to let go of the wheel and his knuckles were even whiter. "Who else? We were together in the car. Dean, what the hell is going on?"

"Some-" Dean had to pause to swallow and wet his suddenly dry throat. "Somebody just turned the light off."

"What?" Sam frowned and looked around. "No they didn't."

"Yes, they did."

Sam's eyes slowly went back to his brother's face and for the first time he noticed how unfocused Dean's eyes were.

'_Holy shit!'_ Sam's hand went up and he waved it in front of Dean's face for good measure, but when he got no reaction, he felt his heart sank to the bottom of his boots.

"Sam?" Dean's voice shook him out of his stupor.

"I... I'm here."

"Sam, it's not dark, is it?" Dean knew the answer before asking the question. There was no way everything would suddenly turn black in the middle of the day; nevertheless, he still hoped that there'd be something making the impossible happen, rather than something scarier; like, say, his eyes suddenly not seeing a thing for no reason.

"No... No, Dean. It's not." Sam's voice was quiet and he sounded just as shocked and scared as Dean did; but he quickly snapped out of it; or maybe it was the fear leading him, because he suddenly started to move. "OK. OK. Look, let's get you to the nearest hospital. Come on. Move over; I'll come around and drive." With that he jumped outside and ran to the other side of the car and was glad to see that Dean had finally let go of the wheel and had scooted over, looking a bit more collected.

"We'll figure it out." He found himself saying the moment he sat in the car, looking at the pale face of his brother.

Dean merely nodded and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the side window.

The nearest hospital didn't appear for the next two hours, but when they finally got there and Sam woke Dean up and led him inside, they didn't have to wait long before an elderly doctor came to help them.

"So, no headache? No nothing?" The old doctor asked again as he put his penlight aside and looked with confusion at Dean on the exam table.

"No nothing." Dean answered hoarsely. "I was driving my car and everything was alright and then BAM; the lights were out."

The doctor shook his head. "I can't see anything wrong with your eyes right now, so we'll have to do more tests. The reason behind your sudden blindness might be a blood clot or a minor stroke."

Both Dean and Sam turned whiter shade of pale at hearing that, but neither could find anything to say about it; so they both kept quiet.

At least until they were alone again.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Dean." Sam tried to sound more certain than he really felt.

Dean was tempted to snap at his brother and tell him that he was blind. _Blind_. It was _not_ nothing; it was already _some_thing and if a stupid blood clot or, God forbid, a minor stroke or something just as ominous had happened to cause it, there was probably nothing the doctors could do to help him; to give him his sight back. And if he couldn't see... He shuddered at that thought and just buried his face in his hands; letting, at least, Sam be a little optimistic about the whole thing.

.

Three hours later, Dean and Sam were back to waiting, this time for the test results and in a room as Dean had been admitted; and when the doctor walked in with reports and scan results in his hand, neither one could properly hide their anxiety.

They hadn't exchanged a word for at least an hour and both were contemplating the situation and were trying to deal with it, their own way; Sam was pacing the room up and down; swaying between looking out the window and going back to study Dean while the older brother merely lay on his bed, with his eyes closed; trying to put a brave face on.

"I have your results back."

Sam studied the doctor's face to see if he should prepare himself for the bad news and Dean did the same by listening to the man's voice, since he was deprived of the privilege of watching his movements.

"Well-"

"Just spit it out, Doctor. Will you?" Dean said in a hard tone.

"OK. Well, here's the thing, I think we should redo the tests."

"What?" Both brothers uttered in unison.

"The... Look, I'm sorry, but the thing is the tests and scans show nothing wrong; absolutely nothing. In fact, you're perfectly healthy if these are correct." He shook the papers in his hands.

"Then why in the hell can I not see a damn thing?" Dean growled. Man, he didn't think there could be something worse than not knowing whether it was a blood clot or a stroke that had caused his problem. He's silently hoped it was a blood clot, because _that_ was operable and there was a chance he could see again; with a stroke, everything was probably over; well, chances were slimmer, anyway.

But now... Now this good for nothing doctor was telling him that nothing seemed wrong and it was worse, because now he didn't know what had caused all this and the not knowing was killing him.

"Exactly." The doctor said. "That's why I think we should redo the tests." He then realized how weary both brothers looked, so he continued, "I'll go and discuss the situation with a few of my colleagues first, though. In the meantime, you get some rest; whatever it is, stress is not something you need on top of it right now, it could worsen your situation."

Neither brother said anything as the doctor walked out; neither even could think of anything to say; so Sam collapsed into the chair near the wall and heaved a sigh as Dean's mind drifted away and soon after that, he started to zone out.

Sam wasn't sure how many hours he'd slept, but when he opened his eyes, it was dark outside and his body was screaming at him for sleeping on a hard chair.

Dean was still not awake and he looked kinda peaceful in his sleep, so Sam kept quiet and let him rest; knowing that at least in his sleep, the older man didn't need to worry about his eyesight.

Damn, he could understand why Dean was scared shitless, and Dean _was_ scared shitless, because he'd shut Sam out, had been stoic and hadn't made a single joke the whole time. Heck, Sam was scared just as much and he wasn't the one facing an uncertain future.

Silently he walked out of the room to use the bathroom in the hall.

When he came back and entered the room quietly, he didn't expect to see Dean's shocked face right in front of him, so he jumped a little. Dean wasn't on the bed; he was standing in the middle of the room and... And he was staring _right_ at him.

"Dean?" He wasn't sure if Dean was actually awake.

"I can see." It was the first thing Dean blurted out.

"You can... What?" Sam knew he was sounding ridiculous, but he was dumbfounded.

"Sam..." Dean shook his head, showing that he was just as bewildered.

"I'll go get your doctor." Sam said quietly but didn't move from his spot.

"No." Dean announced. "Let's get outta here."

"What? No, Dean. You could be dying." Sam stepped further inside, trying to stop Dean from doing something stupid.

"Weren't you there when the doctor said I'm perfectly healthy?"

"And you still couldn't see a thing when he said that. In case you've forgotten." Sam insisted stubbornly.

"Sam, can't you see? There's nothing wrong with me."

"Then how can you explain hours of blindness without even as much as a headache. Maybe you've been too tired, or have been stressed out; maybe-"

"Any of those things should've left a trace on the scans." Dean interrupted his brother. "But the doctor said there was nothing. I'm fine."

"Then explain it to me. What's happening?"

"I can't. Which is why we should get out of here."

Sam shook his head, showing that he wasn't following Dean's logic.

Rolling his eyes, Dean said, "What does it mean when things happen that people can't understand? When there's no natural way to explain it?"

"Oh."

"Yeah, Oh." Dean nodded. "Let's go, Sammy. Whatever son of a bitch that's doing this to me? I want it killed and burned _yesterday_. Nobody messes with Dean Winchester."

"Yeah, we better get to it before it hurts you too bad."

"Blindness is not too bad? Because let me tell you, it's horrifying."

"You can see again, can't you?"

Dean slowly shook his head from side to side, "Point taken." But he still sounded disturbed.

"We'll find it, Dean." Sam said reassuringly, having some ideas how scary it was not to know what'd happen next or what kind of creature had caused the temporary blindness. No, he wouldn't let that happen again; they'd find that thing and get rid of it, pronto.

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Your reviews and comments will help me a lot and would encourage me to work faster. ;)  
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**All mistakes are mine.**

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	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thank you for all your comments, alerts and faves. :) _**

_To the person who addressed the reference to 'The importance of Being Earnest': Haha, I love that you noticed it; it's kinda clear why I've chosen this title for the story, but eventually there'll be more explanation! ;)  
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><p>"We're getting nowhere!" Dean pushed the laptop away and stood up to stretch his body.<p>

Even though Dean had never had much patience with long researches, Sam had to admit Dean was right; the only thing they knew was that something was after Dean and even _that_ wasn't a sure thing.

There were a number of things that could hurt someone without close encounter and they had no clue how to narrow that list down. They'd checked the history of the town they'd passed before Dean lost his eyesight all of a sudden and then they checked everything about the area where it happened to see if there was anything special about that place. But so far, they'd found nothing and Sam was starting to think that maybe Dean was wrong and he actually had some medical issues.

"How are we supposed to find anything when we've got nothing to work on?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and shook his head, showing that he had no answers, either. He was about to suggest that they go and see another doctor when Dean grabbed his keys and jacket and walked to the door. "I'm gonna go get us some lunch." And he was out of the door before his sentence was finished.

Sam didn't find the time to protest; he didn't even _think_ about protesting; his stomach was growling and he realized that he hadn't eaten anything for hours. So, he decided to take a shower before Dean was back with lunch and when their stomachs were full again, they could think of something.

He didn't give it much thought when he left the bathroom 45 minutes later and found the room still empty. Even though he'd taken his sweet time to take that shower, the fact that Dean wasn't back yet didn't surprise him; he hadn't expected Dean to be back under one hour, anyway.

Sitting behind his laptop, he once again tried to see if he could find an answer and when he found nothing, he got up, grabbed his phone and called Castiel; feeling certain that the angel would be able to help them with whatever it was that they were dealing with. His call went straight to the voice mail, though, so he just left a message, asking Cas to call him back as soon as possible.

It was about 15 minutes later when his phone started to ring and when Dean's name appeared on the screen instead of Cas, who he was waiting for, Sam thought with himself that Dean must be calling to tell him he had to change his usual order. But when Dean's pain-laced voice filled his ear, he suddenly remembered why he shouldn't have let Dean go out there alone. What if he'd once again lost his eyesight and consequently had had an accident? What if it was something else this time? What if it was actually a blood clot or an aneurysm or another stroke, assuming the first one had been a stroke, too. What had possessed him to forget such an important thing? He shouldn't have let Dean out of his sight, let alone let him drive to the diner alone.

"Dean? Dean, what's wrong?" He asking worriedly as he quickly put on his jacket and left the room. "Where are you?" He jogged across the parking lot and looked the road up and down.

"Half a mile or so down the road; not far from the motel. I was on my way back." Dean replied, his voice still strained.

"I'm on my way, man. Hang on." Sam said quickly. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it your eyes again?"

"No, no... Sam, I can't..." Dean paused and was quiet for a few seconds and when he spoke again, he sounded stronger. "I can't feel my left leg, Sam. Or... Well, let's say I can't _move_ it; I can feel its pain alright and it hurts like a bitch."

Sam came to an abrupt halt, his eyes wide with horror._ 'His leg?'_ Oh damn, it really must be a blood clot or something, putting pressure on his nerves._ Damn damn damn_. He started to run faster and soon he was by Dean's side.

Dean's forehead was resting against the wheel and he was clutching his left leg with both hands and his whole body was contorted in agony.

"I'm here. I'm here, Dean. Can you move if I help you?"

Through clenched teeth, the older brother said, "Yeah, I... I'll just push myself to the other side, you drive us back to the motel."

"What?" Sam frowned and winced involuntarily as he watched his brother struggling to move his uncooperative limb that seemed to belong to someone else as he had to hold it and move it with both hands. "Are you out of your mind? We're going straight to the hospital. First your eyes and now your leg. Something could be really wrong; we can't just let it go, man. There-"

"Sam." Dean put a firm end to Sam's nervous rambling. "They can't help us."

"Humor me, Dean." Sam sounded desperate. "One more time. Give them another chance and if they still couldn't find anything, we'll try whatever you say. OK?"

Dean heaved a sigh of resignation and nodded his head in acceptance. In all honesty, he, too, was afraid of having some serious medical problems; so he didn't mind receiving reassurances that his body wasn't betraying him the worst way possible. He was way too young, too fit and too good-looking for that. Seriously!

...

"I don't know how to say this, but your test results are clean. I can't medically explain it, but... Umm-" The doctor attending him sounded hesitant. "If I may suggest this, maybe you should consider seeing a psychiatrist, as well?" He made it sound like a request.

"A what?" Dean blurted out as Sam's eyes widened in surprise.

Dean shook his head dramatically when he overcame the initial shock. "Yeah, whatever, Doc. Am I free to go?" He still couldn't move his leg, but thanks to the painkiller they'd forced him to take, the pain was manageable if he didn't move the appendage too much.

The doctor was used to the patients who didn't like to accept that their problems could have a psychological reason. "Look, Mr. Brown, I know you don't like to think about it this way, but you said yourself that your life is anything but calm and peaceful. Stress could be the source of many types of physical discomfort; it could really help you if you consulted a psychiatrist."

"Yeah, Doc. I hear you; thanks." Dean replied dismissively.

The doctor knew he couldn't do more, so he just nodded his head and said, "Don't hesitate to come back if anything else happened." And then he left the brothers alone.

"Sure, 'cause you helped so much this time." Dean muttered under his breath. "I told you no hospital." He growled impatiently at the look of amusement on Sam's face. "And if you _ever_ mention this again, I'll kick your ass, with or without working legs."

Shaking his head, Sam wisely chose to remain quiet and just pushed the wheelchair to Dean's bed and helped him in it. "Let's get outta here and find out what's toying with you."

"God, I hate this." Dean breathed tiredly, trying to hide his annoyance at being forced to sit in a chair and not being able to walk on his own; it was really getting on his nerves, but for Sam's sake, he decided not to show it for the moment; he could see that his brother was barely holding himself together.

"You and me both, bro." Sam sighed and pushed Dean's chair forward. He really wanted to find out what was causing the trouble.

.

By the time Sam pulled into the motel's parking lot, Dean had fallen asleep and didn't even budge when Sam opened his door to help him out.

"Dean? Hey." He shook his brother's shoulder gently and Dean who'd been completely out of it; opened his eyes, moved around and stood up quickly, stretching his body drowsily.

"Whoa." Sam stepped back and looked down at Dean's leg with surprise.

"Whoa?" Dean blinked tiredly and followed Sam's gaze to his leg and suddenly everything came back to him. "Whoa." He tentatively stomped his left foot on the ground a few times and smiled wildly when he didn't feel any pain. "It's back to normal." He stated happily.

"We really gotta figure out what's happening to you." Sam shook his head. "You sure you're good? Everything in order? No other-"

"Hey." Dean exclaimed. "Please don't jinx it." He said as he walked past his brother towards the door. "Let's go and order something. I'm starving."

Yes, they both had missed their lunch, too.

...

It was in the middle of the night, sometime around 4 in the morning when Sam woke up to the sound of moans coming from Dean's bed. Sam was instantly at his side. Despite clearly being in pain, the older hunter was still out of it. Shaking him awake, Sam tried to see what was causing the discomfort, this time.

"Sam?" Dean rasped, sounding hoarse from the pain, even though apparently he himself hadn't noticed how much pain he was in or that he'd been groaning in his sleep.

"What's wrong, Dean? You in pain?" Sam voiced the obvious question, not really surprised that Dean was confused and not fully awake, even though he was the one in pain; after all, with the painkiller in his system and the kind of day he'd had, he was bound to sleep through anything.

Dean concentrated harder and thought about Sam's question and then suddenly jumped up from the bed. "Holy shit."

"What?" Sam stared at his brother in shock, waiting to see what part of his body was causing him pain this time.

"Ughhh." Dean grabbed at his T-shirt and pulled it away from his chest; then with one hand he grabbed it and pulled it over his head and threw it away.

"What _the_ hell?" Sam's gasp was so loud that it even drowned out Dean's painful groans.

Looking down, Dean's eyes went wide. On his chest was a wide area of burning marks that were blistering and oozing blood. They both were too shocked to do anything at first. So when Dean suddenly cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, Sam didn't know what to do.

"O God. What should we do? Dean? What should I do?"

"I don't... Damn. Dunno. GAAAH." Dean panted, punching the carpet on the room's floor over and over again, trying to stifle his shouts of pain; beads of sweat had formed on his face and his back and he was breathing hard through his clenched teeth.

Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and pushed him up a bit to take another look at his chest and watched with horror as the burning on his brother's chest spread before his eyes.

And then it stopped.

And right after that, Dean went limp in his arms.

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Dean's gonna hate me! I just know it! Well, he probably already hates me! This chapter was just to hurt him (I regret nothing), but in the next one, the boys will finally get some answers!  
><em>**

**_Let me know what you think._**

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**All mistakes are mine.**

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	3. Chapter 3

_Sam grabbed Dean's shoulders and pushed him up a bit to take another look at his chest and watched with horror as the burning on his brother's chest spread before his eyes._

_And then it stopped._

_And right after that, Dean went limp in his arms._

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><p>Sam was breathing hard himself; his hands were shaking a little and he felt completely lost; he'd seen many scary things in his life; had seen Dean in worse shapes over the years; heck, he'd had Dean dying in his arms or before his eyes many times; but somehow it never got easier and this time, it seemed even worse, because he felt helpless, too; not knowing what was happening or how he could stop it from happening was literally driving him crazy.<p>

Well, at least one thing was clear; whatever it was, it was definitely something supernatural.

As he tried to tentatively touch Dean's chest, Dean's eyes flew open, his body arching off the floor in pain.

"Hey, hey. Calm down... Dean, you with me?" The younger brother tried to keep his voice steady. "I... Let's get you back to your bed and I'll go get the first aid kit. Huh?"

Dean nodded and pushed himself up with an enormous effort, his eyes glued to the damage done to his chest.

Thirty minutes and lots of pain-filled groans later, Sam had put ointment on Dean's chest and had the wounds dressed; Dean had tried to help, but the pain was simply too much and Sam had easily pushed his hands away.

"Such a coward." Dean spat as he rubbed the heels of his palms against his thighs, in order to keep himself from touching his chest.

"What? Who?" The younger man blinked with confusion.

"The bastard who's doing this to me." Dean growled. "They clearly have something against me but seriously, I thought witches were cowards with their witchcraft... This one definitely wins the prize."

"Witches." Sam quickly stood up, like he'd suddenly come up with a brilliant idea. "Oh, man, why haven't we thought of it sooner? That must be it." He then went to Dean's duffel bag and started to go through his brother's stuff like a wild animal.

"Whoa, crazy boy." Dean winced but he sat upright. "Leave my poor stuff alone. You won't find anything there."

Sam kept throwing things out of the bag, acting as if Dean hadn't said a word.

"Sam." Dean called out forcefully, "Stop. I don't think it's that easy. I mean think about it."

Sam paused. "I _am_ thinking about it. What's it?"

"Doesn't the way that things have been happening to me and then go away ring any bell?"

"Spell?"

"Sam?"

"I don't know, man." Sam sounded frustrated.

"Voodoo?"

"Voo-.. What?" Sam was now looking at Dean like he'd grown another head. "This is not funny, Dean." He resumed rummaging through Dean's bag.

"You see me laughing?" Dean replied tiredly and again lay down, sighing as some pressure was lifted from his chest.

"Voodoo." Sam stopped and repeated with himself, as if he was trying to make it sound less strange by saying it over and over again.

"Yes, voodoo. Witchcraft and spells could work, but as far as we know they're not reversible, are they?"

Sam shrugged and sat down on a chair. "We don't know everything about them."

"I don't know man, everything about... This" He waved his hand in front of his chest, "Screams voodoo."

"But torturing someone using voodoo dolls and then take the problem away is kinda lame. Why would anyone do that?"

"Because they're sick and want me to suffer before killing me?" Dean rolled his eyes.

"But why?"

"Why what? Why would anyone hurt other people? Who are you? Mother Teresa?" He assessed his brother with a frown and then shook his head.

"Well, I'll look into it." Sam gave in, accepting that Dean had a point. "But even if it's true, how can we find out who's behind it? Or where he or she is!"

"And now you see why I called them a coward." Dean's voice showed his hatred for this person and Sam felt, deep down, he probably hated them even more than Dean did.

...

12 hours later saw them still at it and although they both were pretty much convinced that it really was a voodoo curse causing Dean so much trouble, the had yet to find the source of it; Castiel hadn't called them back and both Dean and Sam were getting desperate.

"Dammit, how are we supposed to find it?" Dean pushed the laptop back forcefully and winced when the burned skin and flesh on his chest pulled.

Sam caught the wince. "Umm, maybe we should show those burns to a doctor."

"No way. They see me one more time in that hospital and they sure would send me to the psych ward."

"You've burns all over your chest, Dean. Even they can't possibly suggest that stress has caused it."

"They can suggest that I'm crazy and have done it to myself." Dean deadpanned and Sam had to admit that his brother once again had a point.

Sam watched as Dean gingerly laid his arms on the table top and put his head on them; his posture was betraying his tiredness. "Umm, maybe instead of finding this person, we could find a way to block their power." He decided to address something other than Dean's painful condition.

"How? And say we find something, for how long can we use it? I can't exactly change my routine because some lunatic is after my ass." Dean looked up and then leaned back in his chair.

Sam shook his head; he really didn't have any better ideas. So, instead of thinking about it, he decided that it was past the time they changed the bandages on Dean's chest. "Let me change those dressings." He got up from the chair but was stopped with the hard glare that Dean sent him.

"I can do that myself. You keep your ass glued to that chair and find me a way out of this mess."

"Sir, yes, Sir."

"Good boy."

Sam rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to his laptop, but kept an ear out for the sounds coming from the bathroom, so that if Dean had too much difficulty changing the bandages on his chest, he'd go in and help.

He expected to hear some gasps, hisses and curses and he did hear all of those things but what he didn't expect to hear was the string of coughs that followed them. At first he didn't take them seriously, but when they didn't stop and started to sound wet, he jumped from his seat and dashed towards the bathroom; only to find Dean on the ground, shaking with the force of coughs and unable to catch his breath; and the worst part was the blood that was running down the corner of his mouth, down his chin and his face was turning ashen.

Sam was so shocked that he didn't even curse; he was frozen in his place, not knowing what was happening this time.

Had Dean now punctured a lung? Had he _l__ost_ one? Was he dying? What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to know what exactly was happening? Because seriously, if it was a voodoo doll causing all this, then there was no way he could guess what was going on and worse, this was the first time they had to really face something like this; they didn't know much about voodoos.

Looking around, he tried to keep his own fears at bay; knowing perfectly well that hyperventilating wouldn't help them at that moment. He'd freak out later; he promised his desperate brain.

"I'm calling 911." He announced and ran out to do so, but with the amount of pressure he was under, he couldn't find his phone. "Dammit, where's it?" He threw a book away as he cursed and with shaking hands, he searched the beds for one of their phones.

"Sam?" Dean's shaky and weak voice came from the bathroom, causing Sam to change his mind and he darted that way to see what Dean needed.

"Guess... It's over." Dean's voice sounded feeble and hoarse, but at least he wasn't coughing anymore. The sight of blood on his lips, face and shirt was disturbing, but it was better than not being able to breathe.

Wetting a washcloth, Sam knelt next to his brother and handed him the wet cloth. With a shaking hand, Dean took it, but instead of cleaning his face, he put it on his eyes.

"I still think I should call 911."

"And tell them what?"

"That you're coughing up blood with no reason."

"So they could run more tests; poke me some more and then find nothing wrong? Thanks but no thanks." His voice was getting stronger.

"Come on, you really should get back to your bed then." Sam put a hand under Dean's armpit to help him to his feet.

"Gotta wash my mouth first. Fetch me a T-shirt?" Dean leaned against the basin and turned on the tap; but before he could start washing his face, his eyes caught the sight of his body in the mirror and he forgot the water. "That son of a bitch." He cursed when he took in the condition of his own face and body.

"Come on, wash your face and get back to bed." Sam was back with the new T-shirt.

"I'm OK for now."

"Yeah, right."

They both knew Dean was anything but OK. He was extremely pale and clearly freezing, whether it was because of the pain he'd gone through and was still feeling due to the burned skin on his chest and painful coughs or because of the blood loss, they couldn't tell; it was just obvious that he wouldn't be standing upright for much longer.

After he cleaned up a little, he went to his bed and dropped on his side, careful of his wounds; he drifted off in no time and remained that way for the next 5 hours.

Sam sat at the table and resumed his research, keeping an eye on his brother and his breathing and his pallor, feeling beyond angry with the crazy thing that was doing this to them.

He kept going through different websites and pages and even started to read the blogs, in hope of finding something useful and it was then that he stumbled upon something... Something that made Sam's breath hitch in his throat and he felt a sudden rush of blood to his face and head.

He couldn't believe his eyes, but despite the utter shock, his fingers kept tapping buttons on the keyboard and his eyes kept scanning words and lines. He kept doing that until Dean started to stir on his bed.

"Hey there, I think I've found out who's doing this to you." Sam announced proudly as Dean's drowsy eyes landed on him.

"What is it?" Dean would've jumped from his bed if he could, but he just moved gingerly and stood up.

"Not what, Dean. Who." Sam corrected. "It's not a monster."

"It _is_ a monster, whatever it is." Dean said vehemently.

"No, Dean. You don't get it. It's not a supernatural creature. We're talking about a human here."

"Huh?" Dean frowned, not sure what his brother was getting at. They didn't know many people; why would someone want to hurt him like that? He was puzzled.

"To be exact... It's... er... Well, I'm pretty sure this person is one of your... Umm, she's one of your fans."

**.**

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: I bet you didn't see that coming! Or did you?! O, boy, I'm adding humor to my stories! What's the world coming to?! :D But hey, don't worry, despite what it looks like, it's not a crack fic and it's not really that humorous, either! Heck, there's angst ahead. But well, they've faced their fans before, so, I figured they could do it again; this time it's a bit different, though!  
><em>**

**_I really need to know your opinions now!  
><em>**

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**_._**

**All mistakes are mine.**

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	4. Chapter 4

_"No, Dean. You don't get it. It's not a supernatural creature. We're talking about a human here."_

_"Huh?" Dean frowned, not sure what his brother was getting at. They didn't know many people; why would someone want to hurt him like that? He was puzzled._

_"To be exact... It's... er... Well, I'm pretty sure this person is one of your... Umm, she's one of your fans."_

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><p>Dean blinked; he was sure he'd heard wrong; he must be still half-asleep; because seriously, there was no way he'd heard what he'd just heard! "Come again?" He finally croaked.<p>

"Your fan?"

"What do you mean my _fan_? I'm not some celebrity." Dean grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Sam to be able to look at Sam's laptop's screen.

Sam shrugged. "_I_ had a fan."

Dean suddenly realized. "Oooh. Becky?"

Sam nodded. "And apparently this fan of yours has found out about us through Becky's tweets and posts." He added, almost apologetically.

"Damn. That kinda fan. Becky was never anything but trouble." Dean sighed. "Wait." He frowned. "So you get to have sex with your fan and mine wants to torture me to death?"

Sam didn't know what to say to that and he didn't have to come up with anything, because Dean seemed still confused as he continued, "And how could you be so sure, anyway? What makes you think that it's a fan or whatever, a human? What've you got?"

Sam's mind had gone elsewhere, though; so instead of answering Dean's question, he said, "She must've some sort of supernatural help, though."

"Yeah, Voodoo." Dean deadpanned.

"No. No. It's more than that. She can apparently see all our reactions, and how can she do that if she has no cameras around? Because let's face it man, she can't have a camera everywhere we go. Something must be around us reporting everything to her, or well, taking some sort of pictures for her. I don't know, man. I'm still trying to figure out the whole thing myself." Sam explained, not realizing he wasn't making much sense.

"Sam." Dean sounded impatient. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about this." The younger brother brought up another page and let Dean see it.

"A blog?"

"Yes, she's writing about you; us. Everything. Every single reaction we show. You being in pain and hurting and I worrying myself to death. The bitch." Sam growled, sounding truly annoyed.

"Jesus H. Christ." Dean's eyes were quickly scanning the lines, and with each passing second he was looking more and more shocked and pissed. "What the hell is wrong with these people? Whatever have I done to her to do this to me?"

"Umm, you're cute?"

"What?" Dean's head snapped towards his brother.

"Her words, not mine." Sam quickly added. "Look, here." He showed his brother a line from one of her first posts. "She says she can't explain the whole thing, but one of her reasons is that you're really cute and you look even cuter and more attractive when you're in agony and still are a badass." He shrugged. "Oh, and apparently she likes it when I'm worried sick for you!"

"That's her reason?" Dean spat, sounding totally flabbergasted. "And I'm not _cute._" He added grumpily.

"Well, that's one of her reasons; oh and because she loves you."

"She loves me?" Now he looked horrified.

Sam nodded.

"You hurt someone you love?"

"_I_ don't... No. But apparently it's a common thing between some fans. Here, look at this." Sam then clicked a few times on his keyboard and another page popped up. "See? This is a fanfiction site. People write fictions about their heroes and hurt them all the time, physically and emotionally."

Dean started to read the summaries of the stories and took a look at the number of them on the top of the page "They're all about us?"

"These ones yes. But they write about many heroes of many TV-shows, movies and books. We happen to be one of them. A-" He paused and grimaced. "And apparently we're really popular, too."

"I swear I'll find Chuck and skin him alive. It all started with him publishing stories of our life." Dean growled angrily.

Sam cringed, nodding his agreement; he knew Dean was right and honestly, he was just as pissed about it.

"But I still don't get it, why would they hurt the people they love? And there are so many stories, why is this one actually happening to us?"

"Well, to answer your second question first, I think this fan is a bit, umm, crazier than the others. The others just write stuff and leave it at that; with this one, writing apparently hasn't been enough. I'd say she must've needed to see it happen for herself, so she's gone further and engaged supernatural powers to get what she wants."

"What? She gets high on seeing me hurt? Who lets these people out in the streets?"

"They're perfectly normal, Dean. In fact, they're all good citizens, educated, have a job and a family... Well, maybe not this particular one, though. I mean she totally needs to get a life; if she had better things to do, she wouldn't spend her time doing _this_. Or, maybe she's obsessed or something. But anyway, they're mostly normal."

"Yet they hurt the ones they love; even if it's only in their stories. What would they do if they hated me?" Dean shuddered with anticipation of the things they might do to him if that was ever the case.

"Umm, I've... I've been reading some of their fictions. Of our life and some other shows..."

"You've what?" Dean had to interrupt him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?" Sam retorted defensively. "You were asleep and I needed to be sure of what I was going to suggest."

Rolling his eyes, Dean motioned with his hand for Sam to go on.

"Anyway, usually if they hate a character, two things could happen. They'd either ignore that character completely, or bash him or her mercilessly."

"I wish they'd hate me, then." Dean gritted out. "Bashing I can take; in fact, I don't give a rat's ass about it; but this much pain? Blindness? Numbness? Coughing up a lung and getting burned? And all in a span of two days? No man, I want no fans. Thank you so much."

Sam gulped. "Neither do I." He remembered how Becky had turned out at the end. And eww... No, he _really_ didn't want any fans either!

"So what do we do now?" Dean finally asked. "I mean, if she can see us and she knows what we do, by now she must know we've found out about her and her blog, right?"

Sam hadn't thought about it, but Dean was right. "Yeah, I guess."

"We first gotta find out what's the thing that she has spying on us." Dean went on.

"Camera?" Sam asked and Dean just nodded.

They'd done it before, so no further planning or discussion was needed; they both started to gather the needed stuff together to find out what that thing was that was haunting them and reporting everything to the crazy fan, and then they had to get rid of it.

Easily, they found out that it was a ghost; it seemed to be the ghost of a young woman and the only strange things about her were her bright red eyes.

That led them to a new set of research; they had to find out why her eyes were red; how one could control a ghost, and last but not least, how that ghost could help that fan see things like she was there herself.

This part of research was easier; it was what they both were good at; there were loads of information they could go through to find what they wanted and easily, they gathered enough information to know how one could trap a ghost and how with an ancient ritual a ghost would be bound to you; and apparently it was the ritual and the consequent binding that'd turn the ghost's eyes red, leaving the thing both powerful and powerless at the same time! Powerful because it could pass any barrier, even the salt line with no problem at all; and powerless because it couldn't do anything other than watching and observing. From then on, whatever the ghost saw would become like a memory of the person controlling it and so, it was like this girl- _who, much to Dean's chagrin, used the pen name IHeartHurtDean for herself_-, had been there with them every time they did something.

Dean resented that idea so much that he hadn't even taken a bathroom break since the moment he'd read about it; thinking that if she loved him so much and didn't have any boundaries, which seemed to be the case, she'd send her slave ghost to the bathroom with him to see _every_thing... '_How creepy could stalkers get?!'_

"You cold?" Sam asked out of nowhere when he noticed Dean rubbing his arms up and down.

"Huh?" Dean frowned and for the first time he noticed what he was doing and yes, he was actually cold. Like, really really cold. "Yeah, aren't you?"

Sam was sweating, so he didn't need to answer negatively.

"Well, you're never cold." Dean shrugged.

"Dean, it's not cold in here."

"Well, excuse me, but my body says a different thing."

"No." Sam shook his head. "I mean, are we sure it's not something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like-" Sam tilted his head as if he was subtly pointing at something and Dean got it.

"Oh." He let out. "Oh, shit. I hate cold." He said urgently. "You hear me?" He said to the person not actually present in the room with them. "I know you're sick and everything, but I _hate_ cold. I hate getting burned; I hate being blind and paralyzed and everything. Go find another toy, you _bitch_. I'm a human being, not your fucking toy." He growled angrily and threw on a jacket to get warmer. "Sam, get outta here."

"What?" Sam was startled; dropping the blanket he'd fetched for his brother on his lap.

"That bitch wants to see you worry over me and me restless and in pain? I'm not gonna give it to her. Get the hell outta here."

"Why?"

Dean's teeth were slightly chattering by then. "Did I stutter? Because if you're out there you won't see me and you can control your feelings." He explained like he was talking to a 4 year old baby.

"But... No, Dean-"

"Out."

Sam reluctantly grabbed his jacket, passed it to Dean and walked outside. It wasn't like Dean was wrong and maybe if she didn't get what she wanted, she'd leave them alone; it was very unlikely, considering the amount of trouble she must've gone through to make everything happen that way; but it was worth a shot.

He'd been walking, up and down, outside their room for about 45 minutes when suddenly a gut-wrenching cry broke the silence of the night and he bolted back towards their room.

Once inside, He found Dean on the floor, leaning against his bed, with his left arm resting loosely on his lap and his right hand clutching his upper, left arm.

"What? What's it?"

"I... I thought-" Dean was gasping with pain. "Thought told you... To wait outside."

"It didn't help, did it? She hurt you worse."

"Then get the car and get the hell away from here; if you... If you can't hear me, you can't come back." Dean gritted through clenched teeth; despite the blankets and jackets, he was still shivering and strangely, he had frost on his hair and his eyelashes. His lips were once again tinged blue, this time from cold.

"What did she do this time?" Sam crouched in front of his brother, scanning his feature worriedly. "And if I can't hear you, she'd keep hurting you and I might come back to find your dead body." He reasoned.

"She won't kill me; doesn't want me dead. Thought we agreed on that."

"Still. She could miscalculate things with you being a stubborn ass and you just drop dead." Sam replied. "Let me see."

"No." Dean growled.

"Dean-"

"It's broken. The bone just snapped." Dean's eyes were squeezed shut and he'd started to sweat despite feeling cold.

"Damn." The younger man inhaled sharply. "Come on, we really gotta go to the hospital this time. I can't fix a broken bone."

Dean knew Sam was right, but he couldn't move.

Sam mistook his hesitance for reluctance. "Come on, man; me leaving the room didn't work. I'm not gonna leave again and I'd still worry even if I'm not here to witness things. So let's get your arm fixed and then we'll find a way to stop her."

"If... If she lets us. If... Sam, you gotta get to it. She won't stop. She knows we're close and to stop us from finding her she'll keep hurting me. You gotta ignore these things and keep digging."

"I can't just-"

"She'll never stop if you don't."

"OK. OK. After we've got you to the hospital." Sam finally relented; absently noting that Dean seemed to be getting warmer. "Guess she got your doll out of the freezer." He joked but then realized that it was probably the exact thing that she'd done.

"Oh, shit. I'm so gonna throw her in a friggin' fridge when I find her." Dean growled angrily as Sam helped him to the car.

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Let me know what you think. :)  
><em>**

**_Please tell me there's NOT actually a writer out there with the pen name, IHeartHurtDean! Just know that I'm not trying to insult anyone or refer to a real person or something; I just came up with that name for the sake of it! (Besides, if anything, I myself heart hurt/Dean more than anyone! :D)_**

**_Thanks for all your comments; hope you've liked this chapter, too._**

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**All mistakes are mine.**

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	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Dear Dede,** well, thank you for reading, but remember that **I** am a fan, too and I LOVE reading and writing hurt Dean fictions but I won't ever think about actually doing that to someone! Like I said, I'm NOT trying to insult anyone! And it's not like I'm bashing someone special here! This character that I've created is just another person who could've been anyone and could've hurt Dean, anyways! Just because she's a fan doesn't mean she should be sane, too! It's like you say 'it's not cool to imply that human beings can do crazy things just because we, too, are humans!' And anyway, I think you should wait and see what happens at the end. ;)_

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><p>The break was clean, but still painful; both Dean and Sam had come to the conclusion that she must've kept the doll in the freezer long enough for its body to get rigid and then she'd easily broken the arm.<p>

Dean was thankful that she'd, at least, kept the arm; what if she started cutting the limbs off? O God, no. Even the mere thought of it was terrifying. They had to find her and they had to do it fast.

Once they were back at the motel, Dean walked to the trunk of his car and opened it.

"What do you want?" Sam stood by his side and looked inside. He wasn't sure what Dean could want at that hour; especially since he still looked a bit cold and pale and still didn't seem used to the cast on his arm.

Dean stayed quiet, but with his free hand, he pointed to a few objects.

Frowning in confusion, Sam tried to follow Dean's finger and then he knew. He knew Dean was keeping quiet in case the ghost was around and could hear them and he was pointing to the stuff that they'd need to trap the thing.

"Good thinking." He grabbed the stuff and they both walked inside their room. "Why don't you make some coffee?"

Dean's eyes lit up at the mention of the warm beverage and he immediately got to it while Sam started to prepare things for the ritual.

An hour later, they both had finished their first coffees, Dean was sipping a new one and they were ready to summon their ghost.

"You ready?"

Dean's only answer was a bored look towards him, so Sam started the chant.

The light flickered and a couple of minutes later, a silhouette of a woman with red eyes and shabby dress materialized in front of them.

She seemed to be in pain, and growling angrily, she said, "What do you want?"

"Let's say we wanna help you." Dean answered coldly.

"Oh yeah? I've watched you for the last three days; I think I know what exactly you two want."

"Then why did you ask?" Sam asked, sounding annoyed.

"Because we kept quiet at the end." Dean answered with a smirk. "Am I right?" He looked at the ghost. "Is she still able to see what's happening here?"

The ghost's demeanor changed at the mention of her controller. "Your trap stops her mojo." She looked down at the signs and sigils that had surrounded her. "She's calling me, though."

"Good." Sam nodded. "We'll help you if you help us."

"Help me how?"

"You're totally under her control, right?"

"She has my bones. You can't free me." She replied dejectedly.

"If we find her, we can." Dean said back. "Tell us where she is."

"The moment I'm free from this trap, she'll see everything I do. You can't get to her."

"Then we'll keep you here."

"No. Please." she looked terrified. "It's.. It's-"

"Does it hurt?" The brothers asked in unison.

She nodded. "It's like she's pulling me towards her and I'm under tons of pressure and can't go anywhere." she explained.

Dean exchanged a look with Sam.

"What's your name?" Dean asked.

"Ella."

"What's _her_ name?"

"Tara."

"How old is she?" Sam asked and that surprised both the ghost and Dean.

"What? I wanna know." He shrugged.

"You're not comparing her to your own fan, by any chance, are you?" Dean narrowed his eyes.

Sam looked away.

Shaking his head, Dean said. "Does she have anything else on us? Can you tell us anything useful?"

"It's just me; and she has your doll, too. But you knew that already." She said, confirming their suspicions. "She lives in Missoula."

"Montana?" Sam frowned.

"Shit, that's at least 8 hours from here." Dean moaned. "Tell me you've got her exact address, at least."

"Well, excuse me, but I don't take a cab when she summons me." The ghost, Ella, rolled her eyes, which weren't red anymore.

"Can you get us there?" Sam asked.

"How can I get you there? I just told you she'll know what I'm doing the moment I'm out of your trap and then I'll have no control over my actions." She retorted impatiently.

"We could keep the protection signs around you." Sam said.

"How?" This time both Ella and Dean exclaimed.

"There's no way you're gonna paint my car." Dean said hotly.

"And I just told you it hurts to be trapped here."

"Doesn't it hurt to be under her control all the time?" Sam scolded. "You gotta choose." He then looked at his brother. "Don't worry; we don't have to paint your precious car. We can draw these sigils on a piece of canvas."

"Any way you could tell us where we should go?" Dean asked Ella.

"I think I can find the place once we're in Missoula." She sighed despondently, knowing that she probably wouldn't be free of the painful pressure any time soon.

"Great. Let's do it."

"Wait." Dean seemed to be deep in thought. "Free her." He added after a few seconds.

"What?"

"We don't have to keep her trapped the whole time."

"She'll know we've found her." Sam pointed out.

"We won't talk about what we're doing and you-" Dean looked at Ella. "You'll probably be in our car with us, anyway; so, just keep your eyes on us. Don't look at anything outside the car that'd indicate we're going her way."

Ella seemed to be happier with the new plan, because she was smiling and nodding her head.

"You sure?" Sam stepped towards the sigils on the ground.

Dean nodded. "If we keep her trapped, Tara will know something is wrong and then she might summon another poor ghost to spy on us. But wait..." He paused and looked towards the bathroom. "Keep her there another two minutes."

"What? Why?" Sam asked no one in particular, because Dean'd disappeared into the bathroom.

Ella chuckled. "He's afraid if I'm free, Tara would make me follow him to the bathroom, too."

"Oh." Sam's eyebrow rose. "Huh. Good thinking, I guess."

She grinned. "I'd say. Let me tell you, she liked to watch Dean taking a shower."

"Eww. Creepy." Dean's annoyed voice was heard as he opened the bathroom door and came out.

"You good?" Sam smiled broadly.

"Shut up and let her go."

"OK. It'd be great if you can close your eyes or I don't know, just stare at Dean for a few seconds till I get rid of the things that shows we've summoned a ghost." Sam instructed.

Ella just complied and the moment Sam broke the trap, she was gone.

"Where do you think she went?" Sam whispered; aware that once again they were exposed to that so called fan of Dean's.

"Either back to being invisible; or back to the bitch." Dean whispered back.

"OK, let's pack our stuff and leave. Or we can leave in the morning. It's just a couple of hours. And_ I_ will drive." Sam announced, to which Dean just sighed and nodded; he didn't want to end up in a ditch when another blow hit him while he was driving.

"Get some sleep, then. Don't need you to fall asleep behind the wheel."

.

.

"Dean? Hey... Dean." Sam shook Dean's shoulder with his right hand, keeping the left one on the wheel.

"Hmm?" Dean opened his eyes tiredly and looked around. "Where are we?"

"You've been sleeping for 4 and half hours." Sam said instead of answering directly; pretty sure that Ella was there to hear what they said and to, involuntarily, send reports back to Tara.

"Hmm, then why did you wake me up?" Dean said as he unconsciously rubbed his legs with his right hand.

"Because of that." Sam pointed to Dean's legs. "You in pain or something? You've been rubbing them in your sleep for a while now."

Dean looked down at his thighs. "Huh?" And then he stopped rubbing them. "No."

"Then what?"

"I don't know."

Sam glanced at his brother and studied him with a quizzical look.

"Hey, eyes on the road." Dean scolded the younger man.

"You're sweating and you're kinda red in the face. Maybe we should stop and change your bandages. You could take a pill, too."

"Sam, I was sleeping peacefully until you woke me up. We should just keep going and if I need a painkiller I can take it while you drive." The older brother shook his head and once again his hand went to his leg to rub them.

Sam clasped his jaw and kept quiet for the next half an hour, until Dean's restlessness got to him again and he pulled over.

Opening his eyes, Dean looked around. "Why the hell did you stop?"

"Why are you rubbing your legs again?" Sam retorted in lieu of answering.

Dean was confused, he really had no idea why he was doing that; he couldn't say his legs ached, but there was this weird numbness and dull pain in them that he couldn't describe. Like his bones were tired or like there was something wrong with his blood circulation and there wasn't enough blood in his body for his legs.

"Your face is getting really red, Dean." Sam was now facing Dean completely as his hand went up to touch his brother's forehead.

Dean pushed the offending hand away and shook his head, but it turned out to be the wrong move as he suddenly felt dizzy and a moment later his nose started to bleed; and it wasn't a drop or two of blood; it was really bleeding, like profusely and before either Dean or Sam could shake off the shock, the front of Dean's shirt was turning crimson red.

"Shit... shit shit shit." Sam repeated rapidly as he grabbed a rag from the backseat and held it for Dean. "Hold your head up."

Dean grabbed the cloth with his left hand and pushed it against his nose, but instead of holding his head up, he lowered it a bit and pinched his nostrils together with his thumb and index finger.

"Dean."

"Shut up, Einstein. I know about nosebleeds more than you do." Dean sounded muffled behind the rag.

"What?"

"I..." Dean gagged at the smell of blood and grease on the rag. "Find me a clean cloth."

Sam jumped out of the car and less than a minute later he was back with a t-shirt and at Dean's questioning look, he shrugged. "The only clean things we have are our clothes."

"Great." Dean mumbled and replaced the now blood-soaked rag with the navy blue T-shirt. _At least this one didn't smell._

"Should I drive us to the nearest hospital?" Sam asked worriedly.

"If she doesn't... Stop whatever she'd doing, I won't last that long." Dean groaned and closed his eyes, waiting for the blood flow to stop.

"At least your face is not so red anymore." Sam sounded hopeful.

"Probably because all the blood in my face in now on my shirts." Dean said as he moved the T-shirt away from his nose to see if the bleeding had stopped or not; it hadn't but it seemed to have slowed down.

"You sure you shouldn't hold your head up?" Sam asked again. "I mean, everyone does."

"The blood will go back to my throat, if I do." Dean explained as he eyed his cast that now had blood on it since he had held the bloody cloth and shirt with his broken hand.

"Oh."

"Yes, Oh."

A couple of minutes later, Dean finally relaxed a bit and leaned his head back, bringing down the bloody T-shirt from his face. "Don't stop, Sammy. Whatever happens, don't stop." He whispered tiredly.

Sam started the engine, but didn't promise anything. He knew he couldn't control his actions when Dean was struggling beside him. "What do you think she's done now?"

"My guess? She's had the doll upside down."

"What?"

"Red face; nosebleed and numb, tired legs which would mean poor blood flow to them." Thanks to their less than ordinary lifestyle, they both knew more than enough about some medical conditions and first aid.

Sam's eyes widened. "Oh. Like if _you_ were hung upside down."

"Exactly."

"Damn. How are your legs now?"

"Better."

"OK. You need something?"

"Just drive." Dean growled. Yes, he wanted water and a chocolate bar or something. No, he wanted a huge hamburger; yes, that was what he wanted, but what he wanted more was to catch that loony girl and to stop her. He was damn tired of this shit.

Reaching towards the backseat, Sam grabbed a bottle of water, opened it and pushed it in Dean's hand. He could say that his brother was thirsty and besides, he needed to replace the lost blood and right now, water was the only thing they had.

Dean didn't even comment on Sam fetching that bottle of water while driving, he just took it and drank.

"We should stop for lunch." Sam spoke after a while.

Dean wanted to protest, but then he remembered that they hadn't had a proper meal in the last 4 days, since that frigging thing had started, and Sam must be running low. So he decided to ignore his gut and go with Sam's idea. He could take it for a while longer; Sam needed food if he was going to be able to drive them and then fight a crazy bitch; because chances were when that crazy girl saw them, she'd burn his doll or drown it or something else just as crazy, which meant he'd be out of commission. It'd be all up to Sam.

.

Despite ordering a huge hamburger, he only took two bites before putting it down and going for the fries. He didn't feel like eating; he was tired and his chest and arm hurt.

"Not hungry?" Sam asked with a tinge of concern in his voice.

Dean smiled faintly. "I'm always hungry. I just need sleep more than food, right now."

"You should eat a bit more, Dean. You lost a lot of blood."

Instinctively, Dean looked down at his shirt before remembering that he'd changed it to not scare the people in the diner.

"I'll eat later." he said.

Sam didn't push; he knew he wouldn't have much appetite if he were in Dean's shoes.

"OK, let's go." He stood up.

"Hey, sit down and finish your food." Dean didn't move from his seat.

"Dean, we need to-"

"No, you haven't had anything good in the last four days. Finish your food. Thirty minutes more on the road won't kill me." He said in a low voice.

Sam wanted to point out that it could mean a new set of problems, but he knew Dean wouldn't move until he was satisfied that Sam had eaten enough. So, he sat down and quickly started to eat.

He was almost done when right before his eyes, Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed bonelessly to the ground.

The waitress, who was coming to ask them if they needed anything else, dropped her notepad and rushed to his side. "O my God. What happened?"

Sam knelt on the ground by Dean's side, checking his pulse and his airway to see what was causing the sudden change in his brother's condition. This time, he didn't freak out, but he didn't know what to do either.

"I'll call 911." A man said from behind the waitress.

"No." Sam quickly stopped him. "It's... Umm, he has epilepsy." He quickly made up an excuse.

"Oh. So, it's normal?" Thankfully the people around them weren't completely familiar with that condition or there would've been more detailed questions and Sam wasn't sure he could answer.

"He's had a few rough days." He explained. "If you'd just help me to get him to the car, that'd be great."

"You sure we should move him?" Another man, the clerk, Sam realized, spoke up.

"It's alright; it's happened before." He lied easily. He decided he'd freak out once they were alone.

With the help of the other man, they got Dean to the car and after Sam paid for their meals, he quickly walked to the driver's seat.

"Umm, he doesn't look good. Maybe you should take him to the hospital." The waitress was there again, looking genuinely concerned.

Sam smiled wanly. "I will if he doesn't wake up in the next three minutes. Thanks for your help, though." He addressed both the waitress and the man who's helped him; they both nodded their heads and watched them with sympathy as they drove away.

.

"Dean?" Sam shook his brother again, hoping that this time he'd receive some sort of reaction, but no matter what he did, Dean didn't budge. Sam wasn't sure if he should keep driving or get Dean to a hospital; but he chose to go with the former, knowing that no doctor could help them at that moment.

It was ten minutes later when Dean finally opened his eyes and groggily looked around.

Sam, once again, pulled the car over. "Oh, thank God." He sighed loudly. "I was..." He shook his head. "Don't do this, Dean."

Dean turned his head slightly and studied his brother. "Wha-... What happened?"

"You passed out in that diner and have been out for the last 15 minutes."

"Shit." Dean grimaced and tried to push himself up a little in his seat; nothing happened, though and he tried again. Suddenly his breathing started to speed up and his eyes looked frightened.

"Hey, hey, calm down. What's wrong?" Sam immediately noticed the change in his brother.

"Sam." Dean's terrified eyes stopped on his brother's face. "I can't move."

Sam just blinked. "Huh?"

"I can't feel anything from the neck down."

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: I'm so gonna find a hole and hide after this; Dean, fictional character or not, would want to hunt me down! :D  
><em>**

**_Share your thoughts with me.  
><em>**

**_._**

**_._**

**All mistakes are mine.**

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	6. Chapter 6

_"Sam." Dean's terrified eyes stopped on his brother's face. "I can't move."_

_Sam just blinked. "Huh?"_

_"I can't feel anything from the neck down."_

"You can't-" Sam went quiet. Raking his fingers through his hair, he tried to conceal his shock, but he knew he couldn't hide just how scared he was. "You can't just _move_ or you can't _feel_ anything? Because last time-"

"I know what happened last time. I was there." Dean spat angrily before taking a deep breath. "Sorry." He added after a few seconds, his voice strained and hoarse.

"It's alright." Sam said quietly, trying hard not to show his own fear. "I... I think I'll just drive. The sooner-"

"Don't finish that."

Sam shut his mouth quickly, remembering that they weren't really alone in the car.

"Could you just knock me out?" Dean's voice when he said that didn't give anything away, but for someone like Sam, who knew Dean so well, it wasn't hard to hear the tinge of stress and edginess in it. "This is... This is-"

They both knew Dean didn't want to use the word _'scary'_, and that was exactly what that situation was.

"Annoying." At last, Dean came up with another adjective to describe his feelings; because the whole thing, after being terribly frightening, was definitely annoying.

"Close your eyes. Maybe you can drift back to sleep." Sam didn't want to give Dean anything for fear of worsening his condition; for all he knew anything he gave him could affect his lungs and his breathing, too and they totally didn't need that. He turned the radio on and tried to find something that'd soothe Dean's frayed nerves.

"What if-"

"Don't say it." Sam cut Dean's words before he could finish his phrase.

"But the burns didn't go away; what if-"

"Dean, no." Sam stopped him again. "Rest. It is _not_ permanent." His own voice shook when he said those words, but the determined frown on his face and the death grip he had on the wheel showed that he wasn't going to let his mind wander to that dark place. No, he wouldn't let a psycho stalker take his brother away from him; not when Heaven and Hell had tried and failed and definitely not when he'd just gotten him back.

.

"Dean, we're almost there." Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder, only to remember that Dean probably couldn't feel it; it had taken almost an hour for Dean to finally relax enough to sleep, and for the past few hours he'd remained that way; no movement; no twitch and well, no pain either. Now they were finally in Missoula and had to find the girl responsible for all the misery they'd gone through the last few days.

Pulling over, he spread a painted canvas over the backseat and added a few items before starting to chant something.

That woke Dean up. "Hey, what are you doing back there?" He asked without turning around, which only meant one thing.

"Still nothing?" Sam sounded tense and weary.

"No." Dean said curtly.

Sam restarted his chant and when he stopped, the temperature in the car dropped and Ella materialized again.

"She here?" Dean asked.

Ella frowned. "This is not permanent." It was the first thing she said. She'd heard the fear in the brothers' voices when they'd talked about it and since she knew what Tara was doing, she felt obliged to reassure the boys first. "She's inserted a needle in the doll's neck; I think that's what causing this."

Dean closed his eyes and bit his lower lip, feeling immense relief washing over him. He hadn't voiced his fear again, but when he'd woken up and still couldn't feel a thing, he'd been convinced that this was it for him and it'd killed all his hopes.

Sam for his part felt tears of joy welling up in his eyes, but he just cleared his throat and smiled to show his thankfulness. "OK. Umm, can you tell me where to go if I start driving again?"

"I guess. Let's give it a try."

Sam nodded his head and got back behind the wheel; not long after that, Dean started to regain feeling in his hands and when he felt the numbness ebbing away, he concentrated on his hands and with some difficulties he was able to move his fingers.

Sam was watching him from the corner of his eyes and when he saw this, he smiled widely. "She pulled out the needle, huh?"

"Guess so. I think the lost connection killed her joy." Dean replied.

"No. Left." Ella screamed from the backseat, startling both brothers.

"OK. OK." Sam quickly turned the wheel and took the left exit.

"Sorry; it's just that I can't tell for sure until you take the wrong direction."

"It's alright. I understand." Sam said helpfully.

"I... I think now you should turn right. Yes, yes. Right."

They followed her directions until they stopped in front of an old, seemingly abandoned house.

"This is it?" Sam eyed the house suspiciously.

Ella looked at a gray house, two blocks away. "No, it's the grey one over there. I feel her presence inside there. I feel my bones. You will-"

"Yes, I promise you." Dean reassured her and opened his door; standing up slowly, he leaned against the car's door for support.

"Dean, maybe you should-"

"You'd better not finish that thought." Dean cut his brother off firmly. "I'm coming in and we're gonna use the element of surprise."

Sam wasn't happy with that decision, but he nodded nevertheless.

Before they could go with their plans, though, Dean groaned throatily and then suddenly dropped to the ground, convulsing.

"What the hell." Sam ran to his side and tried to shift Dean so he wouldn't hit his head against anything dangerous, but the moment his hand touched Dean's body, he felt electricity running through his own body, making him pull his hand back involuntarily.

"Why is she doing this now?" He looked up and asked Ella who was watching them with worried eyes from her trap inside the car.

"I don't know." She shook her head, looking lost and shocked. "She can't see or feel anything happening here. I'm sure of that." She added. "But I think she's mad that she can't see it. Free me."

"No."

"Just for a few minutes, Sam." Ella reasoned. "I'll just look at Dean. This is the only way. She needs to see this to stop."

And Sam knew she was right; so he quickly jumped up from Dean's side and made a small tear in the canvas.

The moment she was free, Ella moved to Dean's side and stared down at him.

Sam couldn't see her any longer, but he didn't care at that moment; he went back to Dean's side and helplessly looked at his brother, biting his lip and grabbing at his hair.

Soon Dean stopped shaking and his body finally went lax. Hesitantly, Sam touched his neck and checked for his pulse and when he didn't feel anything, he felt his own heart skipped a beat. Dean was still breathing, so the shock had just managed to stop his heart, which still was bad, but right then, Sam couldn't help being thankful that at least it wasn't a full cardiac and respiratory arrest.

Instantly he got to it and started the lifesaving chest compression, all along growling under his breath for Dean to stop being a stubborn ass and come back.

Finally, Dean's eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright, clutching his chest.

"Damn." Sam sank to the ground, noticing for the first time how hard his own hands were shaking. Still, when he realized that Dean was too weak to stay vertical, even in a sitting position, he grabbed his brother's shoulders and pulled him towards his own body, letting his sibling lean against him for a few minutes, until he'd regain some strength.

They remained that way for some minutes and when Dean finally pulled back, Sam saw that he'd also regained some color in his cheeks.

"Electrocution?" Dean asked tiredly, even though he knew the answer.

Sam's only answer was a nod as his face muscles twitched with anger.

"We gotta move now." Dean said in a tight voice. "I can't take this anymore." And he sounded truly drained.

"I hear you." Sam sighed. Standing up, he went to the car and repaired the trap and once again started to chant; soon, Ella was back inside the Impala.

"I kept my gaze on Dean, so she doesn't know you're here. Just be fast." She warned them, knowing there was no need to mention that every passing second could mean another painful experience for Dean.

Nodding his head curtly, Sam walked away from the car and followed Dean, who wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was using the walls to help him stay upright and move towards their destination.

They walked to the door; Sam was hovering behind Dean in case his brother's body wasn't up to walking yet. They knocked at the door and stepped behind the wall so if anyone was checking from inside, they wouldn't see their faces.

A few seconds later, the door opened slightly and a head appeared from behind the door to look outside. Quickly, Sam grabbed it and put his hand over the mouth of the boy who was struggling against his grip; he seemed to be around 23, 24 at most, but he was old enough for the hunters not to feel too bad for hitting him. Sam nodded to Dean who raised the butt of his colt and hit the boy in the head, rendering him unconscious. The brothers quickly looked around the semi-dark street and houses to make sure nobody had seen them and then pulled the boy inside the house as they walked in.

The house was quiet; nobody was in the living room or the adjoining kitchen and other rooms on the first floor.

With another nod of head, the Winchester brothers walked up the only staircase and started to check the second floor; when they found nothing; they walked back down and looked around.

"There must be a door to a basement around here." Dean whispered; he'd put his colt back in his waistband, aware that since they were dealing with a human, they couldn't just shoot her.

"Why?"

"She's hiding bones and doing witchcraft. You think she'd do it in the middle of her living room?"

Sam shrugged, but looked for a hidden door and found it in the kitchen. "Here."

Carefully, they opened the door and walked down, both wincing when the last step creaked.

The girl who was sitting behind her laptop, typing something, turned around and nonchalantly said; "Jimmy, who was-" She stopped mid-sentence when her eyes landed on the two men standing a few feet away from her.

The voodoo doll, which weirdly was dressed just like Dean, some long needles, a rope, a small generator and some other stuff were on the table next to her and a fridge was next to the farthest wall.

"Dean?" She couldn't believe her eyes; blinking a few times, she tilted her head to the right and once again said, "Dean?" She seemed like she'd cry. "You're Dean? The Dean? Dean Winchester?" The way she was repeating Dean's name would've been funny if it wasn't for the fact that she'd put him through wringer.

Her gaze finally left Dean's face for a moment and traveled to the doll on the table and she quickly grabbed it when Sam darted towards it.

"Leave it there." Sam forced out.

"Or what? You can't shoot me." She replied smugly, without even looking at him, her eyes were once again on Dean.

What they didn't expect was for her to run to Dean and hug him. "You found me. You found me. O my God, Dean Winchester is in my house. He's right in front of me. O my God. Only if Lilly and Clair could see this." She was ranting and both Dean and Sam were dumbfounded. "Pictures. I need pictures." She said without moving. "O my God, you're actually here." She looked up, her arms still firmly around Dean's body. "Wow, you look even better in person. And boy, you're so taaaaall."

At that, Dean smirked and looked at Sam. Sam's jaw dropped; he couldn't believe Dean, who'd been angry as hell just a few minutes ago, was now gloating over compliments he was receiving.

"- and you smell so good." The girl was still rambling, but that last sentence shook Dean out of his trance, making him remember how he'd felt about this creepy stalker.

"OK, that's enough." He growled and tried to push her away, but she squeezed him tighter and all her muscles constricted and consequently the pressure she had on the doll in her hand intensified causing Dean to feel like his ribs were going to crack.

"Hey." He wheezed, feeling tons of pressure on his chest and back; it was like his lungs were being squashed. He was feeling like his heart didn't have enough space to beat and was being crushed inside his chest and since he'd just been revived after experiencing a small heart attack, he knew he wasn't far from experiencing another one, this time as an aftermath of too much pressure on his chest which meant it wouldn't be reversible. The pain exploded in his chest and dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes as his heartbeat slowed down little by little, more and more!

**.**

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Too much?! :D  
><em>**

**_Share your thoughts with me, please. :)  
><em>**

**_._**

**_._**

**All mistakes are mine.**

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	7. Chapter 7

_"OK, that's enough." He growled and tried to push her away, but she squeezed him tighter and all her muscles constricted and consequently the pressure she had on the doll in her hand intensified causing Dean to feel like his ribs were going to crack. "Hey." He wheezed, feeling tons of pressure on his chest and back; it was like his lungs were being squeezed; he was feeling like his heart didn't have enough space to beat and was being bursting inside his chest and since he'd just been revived after experiencing a small heart attack, he knew he wasn't far from experiencing another one. The pain exploded in his chest and dark spots started to dance in front of his eyes as his heartbeat slowed down little by little, more and more!_

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><p>Sam quickly caught the changes in Dean's breathing and jumped behind his brother and grabbed Tara's wrist; he didn't want to hurt Tara, she was merely a young silly girl, after all, but that <em>young silly girl<em> had hurt his brother the worst ways possible and at that moment, she was unknowingly killing him. So he pressed hard against her wrist, making Tara scream in pain and let go of the doll.

The doll fell from her hand and hit the floor; Dean moaned weakly and followed quickly after that, but he was able to breathe again and the pain in his chest, albeit still there, was subsiding.

"You OK?" Sam asked worriedly, alarmed by the pallor of Dean's skin and the hand that was rubbing his chest, over his heart.

"Yeah." Dean rasped and pushed himself up with some effort and grabbed the girl, who was still trying to free herself from Sam's firm grip; he then turned her around and held her tightly so Sam could get the doll and keep it out of her reach.

Surprisingly, Tara went still in his arms and didn't struggle anymore; for a second, Dean thought she'd fainted or something, but when he looked down to check, he saw that she was smiling like an idiot and tears were streaming down her face; and more annoyingly, she looked damn comfortable in his arms.

"Hey; you crazy bitch." Dean shook her.

"Dean. Minor." Sam warned from behind.

"Minor my ass." Dean growled. "You forget what this _minor_ has been doing to us for the past four days?"

Sam's face hardened as memories flashed through his mind. "Where are Ella's bones?" He asked Tara.

She didn't answer and it didn't even seem like she'd heard him at all.

"Hey, he asked you a question." Dean shook her again.

Tara looked up at Dean and scrutinized his face, then turned her gaze to Sam and calmly said, "you don't worry for him enough, you know? Seems like you don't _care_ enough."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"He did everything for you and he _still_ worries for you more than himself; he went to hell for you; he's sacrificed everything for you; but sometimes you're just so cruel and selfish. Why?"

"You don't know shit about our life; don't talk like you do." It was Dean who answered grumpily, feeling like he needed to defend his brother.

"You see, you're still defending him against me while I'm just trying to defend _you_; I'm not saying anything that's not true. Why can't you put yourself first for a change?"

"I don't need a crazy teenage girl to defend me. I'm perfectly capable of doing that if there's any need. Now where are Ella's bones?"

Sam was quiet; he felt bad for knowing that the girl, crazy as she was, had a point.

"I love you." She said again instead of answering.

"You have a funny way of showing it." Dean said icily.

"I do. Really. You're important. You're Dean Winchester. You've saved the world over and over again without asking for anything in return; you're so selfless, caring about everybody but yourself; a true hero. You torture yourself for mistakes that most people wouldn't even bother thinking about. You blame yourself for everyone else's mistake. You're smart and funny and good looking and... And you're the best in your job... I mean, you're Dean Winchester."

"You said that already." Dean said, not even slightly impressed.

"Because I love you. _We_ love you. My friends and I and many many other people all around the world who've ever read those amazing books. You're our idol." She said proudly. "I like _him_, too, you know?" She nodded towards Sam, who still seemed lost in thought. "I especially like him when he's worried for you. Because the brotherly love is... Well, just the best and he should do that more often; you deserve to have someone to really care about you for a change."

Dean was pretty mystified by the things he was hearing from a total stranger.

And apparently Tara wasn't done yet. "I keep imagining cases when you're sick or hurt and he's worried and hovering. Oh, _Faith_ was my favorite chapter of the book... And _Devil's Trap__... _And and _'In My Time of Dying'_ when you were in a coma after that accident; or the one with the _Djinn._ Oh and, _Mystery spot_ And -"

"OK, Ok; we got the picture; you like hurting me." Dean rolled his eyes; the girl was practically vibrating in his arms and it was making Dean feel dizzy. "Believe me; I know. I now have _scars_ to remind me of that."

"Scars are good." She said joyfully, her eyes shining with energy.

Dean frowned and wrinkled his nose; if he wasn't afraid she'd do something nasty, he would've pushed her away.

"What should we do with her?" He asked Sam.

Sam remained quiet.

"Hey." Dean called out. "Go and free Ella from the car and then look for her bones. We made her a promise."

Sam nodded quietly and left, leaving Dean to push the girl down to the chair and tie her to it; she was enjoying his broad chest and his arms around her way too much.

"I'm sorry." She said. "But you need to understand, I love you." She said, not protesting against being tied up.

"I'm sorry, too." Dean smiled humorlessly. "But I gotta protect myself and my brother from monsters and right now, you're not far from becoming one."

"Wow, you're so well-built." She clearly hadn't heard a word Dean had just said; she was busy drooling over his broad shoulders and chest.

Growling under his breath with exasperation, Dean turned his back on her to take a look around the basement; he knew he was wasting his breath talking to her.

"Wow."

OK, he was getting really tired of those three letters, too.

"Look at that ass." she giggled.

Dean quickly turned around and frowned. Usually he didn't mind hearing those kinds of compliments; in fact he loved them, especially from a beautiful girl, and he had to admit, Tara was beautiful; but before anything else and first of all, she was a minor and he couldn't possibly feel about and look at her the same way he did with girls his own age and second of all, she'd been torturing him for days now and she was crazy and she was a stalker through and through. There was no way he could enjoy the words that were leaving her mouth; if anything, he thought it was just creepy.

Thankfully, Sam was back soon. "The boy's still out." He announced.

"OK. Gag her and find something to cover her eyes. Will you?" Dean instructed and Sam just complied, knowing perfectly well what Dean's problem was.

"Ella. Lead me to your bones." Dean asked the ghost once she appeared behind Tara, looking down at the girl with malice; she wasn't invisible anymore and that was probably because she was near her bones and in her main trap again.

With lots of effort, Ella turned her attention away from Tara and walked to the back of the basement and stood near a set of cabinets.

"In there?" Dean asked.

"Yes."

"You want me to burn them?"

Ella pondered for a few seconds and then decided that yes, she didn't want to be used again, so she nodded again.

"Alright. Thanks for your help." Dean said as he poured salt and fuel on the bones.

"_I_ should thank you; and sorry for what she did to you."

Dean just smiled. "Not _your_ fault. Rest in peace."

She smiled back and the second Dean lit the bones, she vanished into thin air.

"OK. Now what?" Dean asked and looked around the room, taking in every single object that had caused him pain during the last few days.

Sam shrugged and sighed.

"Hey." Dean's voice startled him. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam just shook his head and looked away.

Dean frowned and tried to guess what his brother's problem could be and he suddenly remembered that he'd been quiet since Tara had accused him of not caring enough. "Sammy." He called and waited for his little brother to look back at him. "You can't let her words get to you."

Sam just shook his head again.

"Come on, Sammy. She doesn't know shit about our lives."

"Doesn't mean she's wrong."

Dean closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "We've been through a lot, Sam, but we've come out stronger and we're still together, aren't we?"

"I've hurt you."

"I've hurt you too." Dean pointed out.

"Not the way I have. I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean rolled his eyes and stood in front of Sam, squeezing his shoulder. "You didn't give up on me."

"Not this time, but-"

"Let's not go there. Huh?"

Sam was quiet, but his eyes showed his gratitude.

"Come on, little brother. Let's get this over with and hit the road." Dean smiled.

A muffled sound, something suspiciously like 'Awww', left Tara's covered mouth.

Dean and Sam frowned at her and both shook their heads.

"What do we do with her?" Sam asked.

"Let's get this place clean, first." Dean suggested and they threw everything, every book and tool they could find in a bag, leaving the basement bare and clean.

Next, Sam sat behind the laptop and started to type.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Deleting her posts on her blog and closing it."

"Yeah, good. Check for a twitter account, too. Oh and don't forget her emails." Dean could remember how Becky had boasted about her relationship with Sam on twitter and he didn't wanna know what Tara might've done.

Tara was making annoyed noises behind her gag, but neither Dean nor Sam paid her any attention.

While Sam was deleting her posts and cleaning her computer, Dean walked around and checked the house for hidden cameras; he then checked the boy they'd knocked out and made sure he was alright and just unconscious.

He also made a call to Castiel to see if there was a way he could help them, thinking that the only way he'd be remotely safe from Tara and her crazy thoughts was if Cas erased her memory of him and those stupid Supernatural books.

Thankfully, unlike the first time that Sam had tried to find Cas to ask for his help, this time, the angel answered his phone. He was apparently busy with something, but he promised to send someone to help them and a moment later a female angel was there, trying hard not to laugh at their predicament.

"Go ahead. Laugh." Dean sighed dejectedly.

The angel, Clara, as she'd introduced herself, giggled softly. "You gotta admit; after everything you and your brother have caused or have gone through, you haven't seen this one coming."

"You mean you have, O you Wise One?" Dean said sarcastically.

She just laughed and walked to the girl and opened her eyes and mouth and bent down to be able to look her in the eyes. "You bad bad girl." She chastised humorously.

"Great; out of everyone that Cas could've sent us, he had to send the one who'd enjoy this."

"Oh, make no mistake; every one of us would've enjoyed this." Clara straightened up. "In fact, Castiel was really sorry he couldn't come himself. He felt he was missing something good and I can tell he was right."

"Just do it, will you?" Dean shook his head, but there was no trace of frustration in his voice.

Clara smiled and put her fingers on Tara's forehead.

"No please." The young girl begged brokenly. "I promise to leave you alone, Dean. Don't make me forget you. Please."

Dean sighed.

Clara looked back at Dean to make sure he hadn't changed his mind to which Dean rolled his eyes. "Just do it."

Tara frowned. "Besides, all my friends know about this. You can't just-"

"I'll take care of that, too." Clara turned serious. "This joke has gone too far." And with that she pressed her fingers against Tara's forehead and a second later, the girl went limp.

"Thanks." Dean sighed.

"Put her and her brother to their beds. They won't remember a thing about tonight or about you guys. I promised Castiel to take care of this situation; I'll go finish the job with her friends." She said and disappeared promptly.

Sam untied the girl and lifted her up. "I'll see you in the car." He said, indicating that he'd take care of Tara and her brother. Dean couldn't really do anything with a broken arm, anyway; so he nodded and walked up the stairs.

"Hey, Dean."

The older man turned around and winced a bit as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, but he decided to ignore it; the adrenaline that had been pumping inside of him throughout the whole thing was waning now and he knew he was going to be sore for a few days, at least.

"Make sure every copy of the Supernatural books is gone."

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched slightly. "Yeah."

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**... TBC ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: I'm almost sorry she's not gonna remember any of this and that they finally took care of her! :D_**

**_So, what do you think?_**

**_Thanks for your support. :)_**

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**All mistakes are mine.**

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	8. Chapter 8

_"Hey, Dean."_

_The older man turned around, wincing a bit as he felt a sharp pain in his chest, but decided to ignore it._

_"Make sure every copy of Supernatural books are gone."_

_The corner of Dean's mouth twitched slightly. "Yeah."_

_..._

Sam took his sweet time moving Tara and her brother to their rooms and then he spent a few more minutes walking around the house, checking the bookshelves to make sure they hadn't missed anything that'd cause them more trouble later.

He was quite content with his thorough search when he was finally leaving the house and didn't care much that it'd taken him too much time to do so; that feeling disappeared pretty fast, though, once he approached the car and his eyes landed on Dean's prone form on the ground just by the passenger's door of the car; and then he wished he hadn't wasted those minutes inside the house.

Not knowing what could possibly be wrong with his brother now that the problem with the doll and the creepy stalker was eliminated, the first thing Sam did was to quickly check the doll to see if he'd accidentally done something to it. When he found nothing unusual, he finally rushed to Dean's side, with his heart in his throat, and turned him on his back and checked his pulse.

Somehow he knew whatever Dean's problem was, it had something to do with either the heart attack before confronting Tara or being almost crushed to death when she was holding the doll too tightly.

His fear was confirmed when he noticed Dean's labored breathing and felt the thready pulse under his fingertips.

Opening the passenger side door, he maneuvered Dean into the seat, and ran to driver's side. Calling 911 didn't even cross his mind, nor did calling Cas for Help.

At the hospital, Dean was whisked away before Sam could even blink and then there were forms to be filled out and questioned to be answered.

All he could tell them was that he'd found Dean like that near the car, hoping that they wouldn't find any reason to involve the cops. They believed him at first and didn't ask anything else, but when scans were done and X-Ray results were back and the doctor informed him of broken ribs and badly bruised lungs and bruised heart muscle, it was clear that they knew he wasn't telling the whole truth; especially since Dean still had burns on his chest and Sam hadn't acted surprised at hearing about them.

Thankfully, or maybe a little bit strangely, nobody pressed him for answers as he looked genuinely concerned and was good enough an actor to feign total ignorance. After that, the doctor wasn't too forthcoming with reassurances, though and Sam couldn't decide whether it was because the older man had the Doctor-patient confidentiality on his mind or simply was mad at Sam for holding back important information.

It wasn't until the next morning that the doctor approached him and looked at least a little bit less hostile and skeptical.

"Mr. Andrews, your brother is awake and he's asking for you."

Sam couldn't help looking a bit smug when he heard that. He almost blurted out _'Take it, Bitch', _before remembering that he'd sound too much like Dean would and even Dean wouldn't exactly utter those words in a situation like this!

"Would you _now_ tell me how he is exactly?" He poured his annoyance into his voice, though. No need to pretend he was OK with being kept in the dark for so long.

"He's still weak and in pain as we can't give him any strong painkiller for fear of respiratory depression or heart failure. The arrhythmia is still worrisome but it's to be expected after an electrocution. I think it'll be gone in a few hours."

Sam had come up with a story about the electrocution, but hadn't said anything about how Dean had burned his chest or why it looked like he'd survived a train wreck, only to collapse later.

The doctor waited a few seconds and continued his explanation when Sam stayed silent. "His ribs are healing nicely and he's already asking to leave, but I'd recommend you to talk him into staying a bit longer; another day, at the very least."

"Is that really necessary?" Sam inquired with a deep frown; he knew why Dean didn't want to stay in this town any longer than absolutely necessary and he happened to agree with him. "Umm, Dean's not really fond of hospitals." He winced inwardly when the voice in his head, that always sounded like Dean, said, '_Nice one, Sammy; because everyone else just loves hospitals!_'

The older man's expression didn't change at all, though. "We need to monitor his condition closely, for at least another 24 hours. Whatever has put that much pressure on his chest could've easily killed him. If you leave now and those broken ribs shift and puncture his lungs and make them collapse or if his heart stops due to the contusions and pressure, you won't be able to get him help in time." The doctor answered bluntly.

Sam swallowed hard, looking truly distraught and nodded. "I'll talk to him about it."

"Try not to keep him awake for long, either. He needs rest more than anything else right now and sleep will help him with his pain." By then, they were standing behind the curtain that was separating Dean's cubicle from other cubicles in the ICU.

Sam nodded again; pulling the curtain aside, he quietly walked towards his brother's bed.

Dean looked pale and even the mask covering most of his face didn't hide the pallor of his face or the pain lines around his mouth and eyes.

"Hey, Jerk." Sam smiled sadly at his brother and once he noticed that the doctor had yet to leave them alone, he added, "What have you gotten yourself into?"

Dean opened his eyes tiredly and frowned, but then from the corner of his eye, he noticed the doctor lingering a few feet away and so he just shook his head. He was too spent to come up with some stupid excuses and he used that card to evade the question altogether.

"You OK?" His voice was barely audible behind the Mask.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Sam rolled his eyes. "You're the one who's hidden his injuries and collapsed in the middle of our road trip. Hospital wasn't supposed to be our next stop."

Dean glared at his brother, but chose to remain quiet.

"Everything's alright, though. Take some rest." Sam reassured his brother as he read the question in his eyes. "I'll be right here."

And after that, the doctor was finally gone, so Sam grabbed the chair and put it next to Dean's bedside and sank into it.

Dean eyed him for a few more seconds to make sure the younger man was actually alright and when he was certain of that, he quietly said, "She got off way too easily."

Sam sighed. "No argument there."

"Damn crazy people." Dean sighed which led him to a coughing fit. Grimacing, he tried to stifle it, but to no avail.

Sam, who was studying him carefully, squeezed his shoulder once his coughing subsided and said, "It's over. That's what matters most."

Dean nodded. "Yeah."

"Get some rest."

Dean didn't need to think about that suggestion; he just closed his eyes and drifted off.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Sam sat there and started another waiting game, thinking about how close he'd once again come to losing his older brother.

Despite her intentions and feelings, that so-called fan of Dean's had caused them both so much pain and at the end, Sam'd almost lost the one person who mattered the most to him in this world because some girl had nothing better to do with her time.

Wasn't it bad enough that they had to fight Heaven and Hell and everything in between to keep the earth a semi-safe place? There had to be people who didn't know shit about their life and had to make it worse for them, knowingly or not?

Couldn't they take a break? They still needed to get rid of that mark on Dean's arm, for Christ's sake; they didn't need something like this on top of everything else.

Dean's right hand moved up to rub his chest over his heart, but as Sam bent forward, he noticed that the older man was still fast asleep.

Sighing, Sam reminded himself that as he'd told Dean, the important thing was that they'd survived this one, too and that it was finally over.

So maybe things weren't that bad; maybe it'd been a much needed reminder for him that he could lose his brother any moment; '_and what had Tara said about him not caring enough?'_ He shuddered as remembered her words.

Maybe the whole situation had been a chance and wake up call to remind him that he needed to show his brother that he was there for him just like Dean had always had his back. Maybe now that it was over and his brother wasn't going to suddenly drop dead, he could learn something valuable from the whole thing.

Yes, Sam was all about learning new lessons these days; so he decided that he'd take this one to heart and would show Dean more support.

After all, something good had to come out of all those hard days.

.

.

"Tomorrow is just Friday." Dean sounded annoyed when he announced it.

"Yeah?" Sam glanced sideways at his brother.

"We have to wait till _Saturday_ to get rid of that doll." Dean explained further as he turned his gaze away from the book that he was going through to find more information about voodoo dolls.

"Oh." Sam turned the TV off.

After Dean had been discharged from the hospital that morning _-And yes, he'd actually talked Dean out of checking out AMA and they'd spent another 24 hours in that hospital-_, they'd driven out of the town and had checked into a motel, because they were both beat and needed some real sleep; besides, Dean was still clearly in pain and had to take it easy for a while.

"Well, I'm sure we can keep it safe till then. You wanna hold it tonight? It's _your_ doll after all. You can hug it or something." The younger man smirked.

"Shut up." Dean growled and rolled his eyes.

"OK, _I _will hold it tonight."

"Sam!" Dean warned.

Sam laughed. "Fine. Fine. So what else did you find in that book?"

Dean closed it and put it on the nightstand. "That we gotta wait till Saturday and then put the doll in a clean white cloth; dig a hole in the earth on a sacred ground and place it in the hole and burn it."

Sam thought for a second and said, "I think there was a church not too far from here. We can do this there."

"Yeah, that will do, I guess. Then we should cover the ashes with holy water and cover the hole over with the dirt."

"That's it?"

"Well, apparently I, too, have to bathe with holy water after that."

"Huh; that's gonna be hard with those burns and that arm. And... Well-" He didn't want to mention that Dean wasn't exactly ready for long baths, yet.

"I'll manage." Dean interrupted him.

Sam suppressed his anxiety and protest, knowing that Dean didn't like being fussed over; instead he said, "So we just gotta keep you and the doll safe till Saturday?"

"Yeah, I think I'll keep it safe myself, though. Hand it over."

"Why? You don't trust me? I'm wounded, Dean." Sam whined and feigned hurt.

"With that look in your eyes? Of course not!" Dean faked a melodramatic shudder. "Hand it over before you decide you wanna play with it."

Sam refused. "It's safe with me. I'll take care of my brother." He then grabbed the doll from where it'd been lying on the top of his pillow next to the wall and gently pressed it to his chest, looking like a little child with a favorite toy.

"Sam-" Dean started but then stopped and grimaced. "Oww. What the hell?" He groaned and rubbed his left upper arm where Sam had pinched the doll.

"Sorry, Sorry, I couldn't resist." Sam snickered apologetically. "Wanted to make sure we're going to destroy the right doll."

"Well, keep doing that and you won't need to destroy _it_; I'll be destroyed first." A large area on his arm was already bruising.

Sam grimaced in sympathy. "Shit. Really man, sorry." He bit his lip to keep himself from laughing and carefully threw the doll to his brother.

Dean caught it with his right hand and cautiously put it on the nightstand beside the book.

"Don't you wanna cover it? You might get cold in the middle of the night." Sam suggested innocently and with a serious tone, but the humorous glint in his eyes was telling another story.

"Shut it."

"Maybe we should keep-"

"Shut your face, Sam." Dean glared at him, but there was no heat behind his words.

Wisely, Sam closed his mouth, this time.

"We can find Crowley's doll, though." Dean smirked after a few seconds of silence.

Sam looked back at him and burst into laughter, imagining all the things they could do to the king of Hell. "I bet he'd love to know we have his doll."

"O yeah, he'd be flattered." Dean laughed easily, even though his chest still hurt. Leaning back against his pillow, he felt happy that it was going to be a night that they could both get some real sleep; no pain, no fear, no concern for a gloomy future. At least for one night they could be free of those disturbing thoughts.

And they totally deserved it.

Neither of them would really breathe easily until the doll was destroyed and its negative energy was gone, but at least now the thing was in their hands; they didn't have to worry about various things that could happen out of blue.

And now they could only hope that the next time someone took a liking to them, they wouldn't be as crazy as Tara or Becky.

They had more than enough enemies; they sure didn't need to be afraid of fans and friends, too! They needed some allies!

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**... The End ...**

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><p><strong><em>AN: Well, that's it. Hope you've enjoyed this ride. -Even though Dean probably hasn't had that much fun! :D-  
><em>**

_**Let me know what you think and once again thank you for your reviews, alerts, faves and PMs. :)**_

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**All mistakes are mine.**

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